


Rocking the Suburbs

by Bunnywest



Series: Rabbit verse [17]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Anal Sex, M/M, Wall Sex, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-03 23:47:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11542968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnywest/pseuds/Bunnywest
Summary: In which Peter and Stiles attempt to live a peaceful life in the suburbs. it doesn't start well.





	1. Chapter 1

Peter and Stiles continue to argue.

The realtor’s left eye starts to twitch, just a little.

It’s been a long couple of weeks for him.

He’s shown the couple 17 houses so far. He’s not sure which if them is worse, the enthusiastic younger one, or the critical older one.

If he didn’t know how much money Peter Hale had, and if he wasn’t afraid of ending up on his infamous blacklist, he’d refuse to deal with them at all.

“No.”

“But Peter! Look! An honest to God white picket fence!”

 “No. Stiles, we aren’t buying this house before we even see inside”

Peter turns to the realtor and smoothly tells him “Despite what Stiles says, we would actually like to see inside before we make any decisions. Because _adults_ don’t buy a property based on the fence alone” he directs this last at Stiles, who pretends to ignore him.

They enter the property with Stiles trailing behind, still sulking a little, but his mood doesn’t last when he sees inside the house.  It’s bigger than normal, five bedrooms and two bathrooms, enclosed back yard that backs onto the preserve, and a pool.

It’s simple, and beautifully decorated, and perfect for them. The kitchen’s had a refit and been completely modernized, and the whole place has a light, airy feel to it.

When they get to the master bedroom, Stiles stops stock still as he walks in the door, and starts laughing. He turns to Peter and tells him “we’ve found our house.”

And Peter starts laughing too, when he sees that, nestled discreetly in an alcove near the big bay window, is a pole.

The realtor isn’t sure what to make of their reaction, and starts to assure then that the pole can easily be removed, that the last owners were “a little too outgoing for this type of neighborhood” and that he’s sure that with Peter being a business owner and Stiles being a librarian, they’ll be a much better fit.

That catches their interest then, and Stiles inquires nonchalantly “Really? What’s _too_ outgoing exactly?”

“Oh, you know, parties, loud music, _that_ sort of shenanigans” the agent answers, nodding at the pole.

Peter hmmms. “Yes, I could see that could be disturbing. Conservative folk around here, you’d say?”

The agent nods.

Peter’s voice takes on a steely tone. “How conservative exactly? Too conservative for a couple like us?’ and he indicates between Stiles and himself.

The agent starts to splutter and stammer, as Peter calmly continues “Because I can tell you now, I’ll be _very_ disappointed if you’ve bought us out here to this perfectly lovely, if wildly overpriced house, and it turns out to be in a neighborhood that won’t be accepting of our lifestyle.”

“Oh no, not at all, Mr Hale, it shouldn’t be a problem, I’m sure. Only the best of Beacon Hills lives in this area, which is why I thought it would be perfect for you and your young friend here” he stammers.

“Stilinski – Hale, husband”.

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Hale?”

“My name’s Peter Stilinski-Hale. This is not my young friend. He’s my _husband_ , Stiles. If you expect me to part with a large chunk of cash in the purchase of a property, you can do me the courtesy of using my proper name.”

The spectre of his commission walking away has the realtor rushing to say “Apologies Mr Ha-  Stilinksi Hale, it just you’ve been Peter Hale for so long, your being a married man takes a little getting used to.”

He attempts to inject a little camaraderie into the conversation, saying “We all thought you were a dyed in the wool bachelor, Peter, too smart to get tied down” with a nervous laugh.

Stiles is a little shit sometimes, and he can’t resist sliding his hands around Peter’s waist and cuddling against him, reveling it the agent’s obvious discomfort. “Yes Peter, can’t believe you let yourself get trapped into marriage after avoiding it for so long. I wonder what the attraction was.”

He saunters over to the pole, and idly runs his fingers over it, and humming under his breath, he casually pulls himself up and spins around expertly.

The realtor gapes.

Peter walks over to the pole, and lifts Stiles gently down.

“Behave, rabbit” he murmurs.

He turns back to the man, and says to him “The younger generation – think they invented the wheel, but we older folk know a trick or two”.

And when Peter flips up onto the pole, there’s nothing casual about it. He swings and twists up there for a minute or two, enough to show off his expertise, and then drops back to the ground, without even breaking a sweat, and says ’So, shall we talk about the odd smell in that second bathroom, and the fact that the air conditioning is frankly ancient?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Property settlement is remarkably quick when you’re Peter Stilinski-Hale.

After some fierce negotiations on Peter’s part, they shave a third off the asking price. Stiles finds it incredibly arousing watching Peter torment the agent ruthlessly till he gets what he wants, and he shows his admiration once they get home by riding him for hours.

Within ten days the papers are signed and they’re ready to move in. Noah and Jordan offer to help, but Peter just looks at them like they’ve grown a third head.

“Why would I do manual labor myself, when I can hire other people?” he asks, genuinely puzzled.

In fact, there’s not that much to move, apart from the big bed. Peter’s leaving the apartment over the bar mostly furnished, and just buying replacements for the new house.

They spend an exceptionally entertaining morning at their favorite furniture store choosing new items. The manager follows them around attentively, making sure they have all they need, and looking anxious every time Stiles sits on a couch and says “Hey Peter, come try this”. They keep it PG this time, because the store is reasonably busy, but he still watches them like a hawk. He hasn’t quite recovered from their last visit.

So moving day is fairly low key. They pack their clothes, drive over, and wait for the delivery truck to arrive.

Stiles soon gets bored of waiting though, and he gets a gleam in his eye as he suggests to Peter “We could start christening the place - we have a lot of rooms to get through, and the truck's not due for another hour”.

‘Stiles, there isn’t even a bed” Peter points out.

Stiles presses their bodies together and starts arching his hips forwards . “There’s a wall though…” he says, and pulls a sachet of lube out of his pocket.

The house really is well constructed, it’s just that drywall isn’t made for energetic werewolves to thump their head against while getting a solid fucking. The rhythmic pounding of Stiles’ body against the newly cracked plaster is so loud that they genuinely don’t hear the frantic knocking on the door at first.

By the time it registers, they’re really not in a position to answer. Peter is balls deep in Stiles, they’re both naked, and Stiles is swearing a blue streak as he comes. Peter quickly follows, and they’re still there breathing heavily, Stiles’ legs wrapped around Peter’s waist, when they hear the noise start again.

“Nobody home” murmurs Peter into his ear.

But apparently whoever the visitor is, they’re determined, because now there’s a voice.

“Whoever’s in there, I’ve called the police! We don’t want any squatters in the area, and the Sheriffs on his way!”

Stiles groans at that, and Peter reluctantly sets him down. “Time to meet the neighbors, rabbit” he sighs before calling out “We’ll be right there”.

Peter can’t blame the lady for looking a little scandalized when they open the door a minute later.

They’re wearing their jeans, and Peter’s managed a shirt, although it’s inside out, but Stiles is still shirtless, leaning casually on the door frame behind him with his jeans still unbuttoned. There’s plaster dust in his hair, and his pupils are blown wide.

He’s the ultimate picture of someone who’s just been fucked up against a wall, and enjoyed every minute of it.

Peter sees her eyes run over the tattoos and piercings, and can feel the silent judgement.

 “Oh, hey” Stiles offers with an easy smile. “You called my Dad out? That’s awkward, since y’know, we live here and all. I’m Stiles and this is Peter.” He extends a hand, and the lady pointedly ignores it. When she does so, Stiles notices that there’s a smear of something on his fingers.

Lube. He’s ninety percent sure it’s lube, anyway.

Peter joins the conversation then, all charm and smiles, and introduces them properly.

“Hi. I’m Peter Stilinski –Hale and this is my husband Stiles. We’re moving in today, just waiting for the truck. Pleased to meet you – sorry if there’s been any misunderstanding, but I promise we’re not squatters or thieves.“ 

She makes a mental connection then, and says “Oh yes, Stilinski - the Sheriff’s boy“ dismissively.

Peter extends a hand that’s decidedly cleaner than Stiles’ one, and she shakes it and tells him “Call me Carol ”.

Stiles could swear she flutters her lashes.

Peter watches as she completely ignores Stiles and turns to him instead, asking “And what do you do, Peter?”

Really, he could just say business owner.

That would satisfy her.

But the way she’s treating his husband annoys him, so he tells her “I’m unemployed, mostly, Stiles is the working one in this household” just to see her reaction.

He sees her eyes widen a little at this, but she masks her dismay well. “Oh dear, we can only hope you find something soon.”

Mate bond is a wonderful thing, because Stiles can feel his annoyance, and steps in smoothly to upset the lady further.

“He’s joking, of course. Peter works a little. He’s a part time exotic dancer at the club, Jungle”.

He wraps his arm around Peter, and adds “I didn’t only marry him for his body, but damn it helped. He’s very attractive. Wouldn’t you say he’s attractive?”

Peter leans back against him, and gives her his sleaziest, most inappropriate grin, the one that makes you want to drag him to bed immediately and do terrible things.

She drinks in the picture they make, and licks her lips.

Peter really is unfairly attractive right then.

“As Stiles said, we do live here. Rest assured, you can call the Sheriff and tell him everything’s fine – wait, never mind, he’s here now.”

Noah pulls up the driveway and waves as he gets out of the car.

He sees the pair of them wrapped around each other in the doorway, takes in Stiles’ shirtless body and disheveled appearance, and shakes his head.

“You’ve lived here how many hours and I get a call, Stiles?”

Peter looks affronted as he tells Noah “It’s not our fault, this time. We were waiting for the moving truck and this dear lady, Carla was it? thought we were intruders.”

Carol tells Noah “Sheriff, we thought the house was still vacant, and we could hear banging and thumping, and swearing. I honestly thought it was squatters”.

“I don’t even want to know, you two” the Sheriff sighs.

“We were.. ..testing the structural integrity of the walls?“ Stiles offers weakly.

“Got a little structural integrity in your hair there, son” Noah comments, and he leans over and brushes at the plaster dust.

Noah turns to the lady then and tells her “Ma’am, I’m sure you meant well. But rest assured, there’s no crime here. My son and his husband are just a little……passionate. Heat of the moment, and all that.”

There’s a twinkle in his eye as he says it.

“Exactly – we were overtaken by passion, and we were in the privacy of our own home” says Peter, and he sounds oddly prim, considering his sex hair, inside out shirt, and unbuttoned jeans.

Noah is a troll at heart, so he continues. “Young love, you know? They’re not long married. Hell, I’ve only remarried myself within the last month, and I must admit sometimes my husband and I get a little impetuous as well – surely you remember those days?” and he winks at Carol, giving her his most charming smile.

She looks unconvinced.

”We’re incurable romantics” Stiles tells her cheerfully.

He shakes his head a little to dislodge the flakes of plaster and paint.

Noah leaves then,citing "actual police work" and they’re left standing there awkwardly with their new neighbor.

“Well, this is pleasant, but we must be going” says Peter briskly.

Stiles nods. “Walls to check, you know”.

Carol just stands there, not sure if there’s any way to gracefully recover from accusing the Sheriff’s son of housebreaking, and managing to upset his unfairly sexy husband.

She has an uneasy feeling that these are people she doesn’t want to upset.

So she does the only thing she can think of.

She invites them to the neighborhood Fourth of July picnic the following week, telling them “It’s a good chance to meet everyone, you know? I’m sure we’re all going to be great friends! ”

She smiles a little manically.

Peters’ unimpressed, but Stiles grabs the opportunity with both hands.

“Great! We’ll bring potato salad.  We ate it on our first date, remember sweetheart?” he coos at Peter, still pressed against him. He starts kissing his neck, audience be damned.

“Vividly “Peter replies, smiling and  arching his head sideways so Stiles can reach his throat better.

When they show no signs of stopping, Carol offers a hasty “be seeing you” and retreats back across the street.

“Is she gone yet?” Stiles murmurs into Peter’s nape.

“Bolted like a scared rabbit, rabbit. I think she thought we were going to defile the doorstep” Peter replies just as quietly.

“Oh, thank god, can we go inside then? I thought she’d never leave. I’ve had come and lube running into my jeans since she arrived, and it’s getting cold and gross” Stiles complains.

Peter laughs loudly.

 

 


	2. Fourth of July

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet the neighbors. And there's always some asshole named Phil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is ok, it absolutely fought me every step of the way.

Stiles comments to Peter that he knows how a zoo animal feels, now.

“Every time I go out the door, someone’s watching, and they all stand there and wave. It’s Stepford levels of creepy. I mean, surely they don’t all need to water their lawns as I’m leaving for work?’

“We’re a novelty, rabbit. They all want to be the first to meet the neighbors, that’s all” Peter tells him.

“Meet the neighbors without calling the police, you mean” Stiles clarifies.

Carol has been over several times since the “unfortunate misunderstanding” as she calls it – once with a basket of apology muffins, and once with details of the picnic, and once with some flimsy excuse to talk to Peter.

Each time she’s tapped timidly on the door, calling out “Everybody decent?’ nervously.

The can hear her coming, because wolves, but they make a point to delay answering the door, and Peter always  unbuttons his jeans and rumples his hair so it looks like he has bedhead, and Stiles takes his shirt off, just to mess with her.

He suspects that if she ever sees _Peter_ shirtless she’ll spontaneously combust – she has a definite thing for him, and she’s not as subtle as she thinks she is.

He’s not even remotely jealous, more amused at her failed attempts at flirting.

“So Peter, if you aren’t working, you’ll be free to come over for coffee”.

“Are you handy at all Peter? You could come over and check out my pipes, a single woman needs a man around who’s good with his tools”

“I separated from my husband a year ago – I decided I need someone who can keep me fully satisfied in _all_ areas. “

Peter, for his part, is playing at being oblivious wonderfully well. 

He defers her offer of coffee, recommends a good handyman, and agrees with her that a partner who satisfies all areas is important – she must be careful to find someone who’s her intellectual equal next time.

Last time she came over, it was to offer to pay Peter to trim her hedges.

Stiles is honest to god waiting for her to turn up at the door in her negligee and ask Peter to clean ze pool.

But other than Carol, the neighbors have been restricting themselves to casual waves and surreptitious glances.

Stiles suspects they’re just waiting for tomorrow’s Fourth of July gathering.

He’s made the potato salad, and he’s promised Peter he’ll behave. Peter’s promised the same – they have to live here, after all, and they do want to get on with the people in the area.

As long as they’re not assholes, that is.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles lies awake at 2am, staring at the ceiling and sighing.

“Rabbit. Darling. Sweetheart. I love you deeply, but if you don’t stop sighing I swear I’m going to hold a pillow over your damned face and make you stop. “

Stiles groans aloud. 

“Why did I say we’d go to the damned picnic Peter?  Why didn’t you stop me?”

“As I recall, you had come and lube running down your leg, and you were desperate to get rid of Carla, so you said yes to make her leave. Don’t blame me for your poor life choices, rabbit.”

“It’s Carol” corrects Stiles automatically.

“Oh, I know, but I’ve been calling her Carla all week and she’s left it too long to correct me now. It’s driving her crazy - I want to see how long before she breaks” Peter says happily.

Stiles snorts. “You’re a terrible person, and I love you. But we will try and behave tomorrow, right?”

“I’m independently wealthy, and will act with dignity” Peter declares solemnly.

“And I’m a respectable librarian, and I will behave like one” Stiles adds.

They look at each other for a moment, and Peter sighs “We’re not going to manage it, are we?”

Stiles groans again.

“We’re going to fail at suburbia Peter, I can feel it, and it’s keeping me awake. Distract me?” he pleads.

Peter dives under the blankets, and bites Stiles’ right nipple hard, pulling at his piercing fiercely.

“Ow, fuck!”

“Distracted yet?” he asks silkily.

“Fuck you, Wolfman”

Well, you could, if you wanted” Peter purrs, “It’s been a while for me”.

Stiles props himself up on his elbow, considering it.

“Honestly, I just need something to turn my brain off, and I’m not sure that’s going to do it” he confesses.

Peter considers for a moment. “Do you need a reset, Stiles?”

“That sounds perfect” Stiles sighs.

Sometimes Stile’s brain just needs to switch off, and they’ve found that this is the most effective way to do it.

Peter leans over, and pulls their wedding present from Noah out of the drawer, and a silk blindfold.

He dangles them from his fingers.

Peter asks “How far out of your head to you need to go? If I cuff you, blindfold you, spank you, and fuck you till you scream, is that far enough?’

Stiles licks his lips, and his breath catches. He nods, once.

Peter’s on him in seconds, expertly tying the blindfold in place, flipping Stiles so he’s on his knees, chest pressed into the mattress, and drawing his hands behind his back where he cuffs them in place.

Stiles makes an appreciative sound, and Peter slaps him sharply across his ass. Stiles squeals. Peter slaps him again, harder this time, and tells him “Quiet, rabbit”.

Stiles nods vigorously, and doesn’t make a sound, at least at first.

Peter slides his hands over Stile’s cheeks, and adds a few more strokes – not hard, just enough to sting. It’s not something they do very often, and they have strict guidelines in place, so he restricts himself to light slaps on the fleshier areas of Stiles’ ass.  Even so, it doesn’t take long until his backside is pleasantly pink, and Stiles has started moaning softly.

“Enough yet, rabbit?’ Peter asks.

“Little more” Stiles replies, panting. “S’good”.

Peter lays down a few more strokes with a little more force behind them, and Stiles’ body starts to move up the bed with the impact.  Peter holds him in place by looping his hand through the cuffs, and adds a few final hits.

“Better?”

“So good” Stiles moans out.

“Going to fuck you now, and you’re going to take everything I give you “ growls Peter.  The sight of Stiles blindfolded and restrained is filling him with desperate need, and he grabs the lube and starts spreading it generously around Stile’s ass, rubbing his hands over the pinked areas just to see them change color under the pressure of his hands.

He slips a finger down the cleft of his ass, and slides it inside swiftly. He knows that Stiles doesn’t want much prep when he’s like this, knows that he wants to drown out his thoughts by having sensation flood his body.  

So he stretches him the bare minimum, lines himself up, and drives straight in, earning a hiss. He uses the cuffs to pull Stiles backwards so his back is flush to Peter’s chest.

He wraps one hand around the front of his body to hold him in place, and grabs him by the hair with the other.

With Stiles unable to move away, Peter starts to fuck in hard and fast, but with his hands behind his back, cuffed in place, it’s too damned awkward, so Peter pauses briefly to unlock them. He moves Stiles’ hands in front of him, cuffing his wrists and holding them in place as he presses back in.

Stiles is making little breathy sounds, tiny puffs of air that are punched out of him with every thrust, and he’s lost in the sensations.

 _Good_ , thinks Peter, _he’s getting there_.

Peter aims for Stiles’ prostate with deadly accuracy, and Stiles starts to whimper and whine, and rock back. Peter presses him forwards so he’s chest down on the bed, and adjusting his position so he’s wrapped over Stiles’ back, starts to put some serious force into it.

Stiles is moaning and writhing, chanting _peterpeterpeter,_ and Peter can see that he’s not thinking about anything, right now.

He reaches a hand around and tugs hard on Stiles’ leaking cock, fast and rough, in time with his strokes.

Stiles comes hard, almost sobbing with the pleasure/pain of it, and Peter can feel his body clenching and then relaxing under him.

Peter’s close himself, and he keeps going, in and out, in and out, a frantic pace, until it gets too much and he comes as well, panting in Stiles’ ear.

He doesn’t pull out though, because he knows it’s not enough yet. He rocks gently against his young husband, enjoying the slick feel of his walls wrapped around his dick, and it’s not long before he’s hardening again.

“Didn’t make you scream yet” he whispers, and starts to move again, showing no mercy, and making Stiles come a second time just from the constant attention to his prostate.

It takes Peter pulling a third orgasm from Stiles’ oversensitive dick with four fingers in his ass to make him scream, sob and plead for Peter to stop.

And afterwards, he wraps Stiles up in a soft blanket, and feeds him sips of water, and Belgian chocolates, and coos and shushes him, and lays him down gently as he drops off to sleep almost instantly.

And then he lies wrapped around his mate, thinking about the damned picnic, and hoping to hell these houses are at least a little soundproof.

Stiles was loud, even by their standards. And screams do carry in the still air of 3 am.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles grumbles as he dresses for the picnic, reluctantly abandoning his _Land Rights for Gay Whales_ t shirt for one that advertises BBW, and forgoing the plaid. It’s warm, so he drags on a pair of cargo shorts.

Peter’s wearing a singlet and shorts, and he should look ridiculous, but he just looks damned hot, as always. The outline of his nipple piercings is just visible through the thin fabric. His legs…..Stiles sighs as he drags his gaze away, because Peter in shorts is his kryptonite, and if he doesn’t keep it together they’ll never get out the door.

Stiles almost pities Carol – she only gets to look, whereas he gets to touch. Speaking of which…

“Thanks for last night” he tells Peter, pulling him in for a hug and scenting him. “Worked perfectly”.

“Trust me, it was my pleasure darling” Peter assures him. “Any time you need it”.

 

They take a deep breath, and walk out of the front door like two condemned men heading to the gallows, if one were to head to the gallows carrying a bowl of potato salad big enough to feed a small country, and several trays of BBW wings.

The small park’s only half a block down, and they join the trickle of people heading that way. They get a few waves, and then Carol spots them and swoops in.

“Peter! You made it! And Stiles too, of course.“

She sweeps the salad and the wings away to a communal table, and comes back to drag them around and introduce them to a few people. 

They shake hands, answer questions, Yes his Dad is the sheriff, Yes he’s the librarian, no Peter doesn’t really work, yes they’re married, yes it is a big age gap isn’t it?

Peter can’t help himself at that. “You know what they say” he tells the woman who mentions their ages. “Get ‘em young, train ‘em right, and they’ll never give you a day’s trouble”.

Her eyes go wide, and her husband smirks.

Stiles gives him a look, and he shrugs. She had it coming.

Carol looks slightly betrayed when one of the men they meet connects the dots, and Peter confirms that he’s not a barely employed pole dancer after all, but is in fact the same Peter Hale who’s in the process of buying the Beacon Hills Hotel.

“You said you were unemployed” she accuses.

“Oh did I?” Peter answers smoothly. “I meant I don’t work – slip of the tongue, probably because you caught us at a bad moment”.

She flushes at the memory.

“My apologies, Carla” he adds, and watches her twitch.

 

Stiles drags him away to a group of men who are drinking beers and talking football, and they soon get hooked into the conversation. There’s a guy there, Glen, who seems familiar, something about the eyes, but Stiles can’t place him.

It seems like they may get away with this after all, thinks Stiles, most of the people they’ve met have been fairly pleasant, and they’ve presented a passable imitation of normal themselves.

But the guys are a few more beers in now, and the talk is becoming more risqué. It starts with a few blonde jokes, and then they become slightly more sexist, and Stiles can see Peter out of the corner of his eye, and he’s gone very quiet.

And then somebody tells a rape joke and nope, Stiles turns on his heel and walks away, and Peter’s right behind him.

“Oh, grow a pair” one of the men calls after them. “We know you like it rough – we heard you screaming last night.”

Breathe in, breathe out, Stiles tells himself.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Control the wolf.

Peter though, Peter turns back to them and says “What can I say? We enjoy what we do, and sometimes we’re a little loud. Newlyweds” and he shrugs and tips them a wink.

And if that was it, they might have been home free and clear.

But there’s always one asshole named Phil.

Phil steps a little closer, and by the way he’s walking they can tell he’s more than a few beers in.

“What do you do though, to make him scream? Always wanted to ask a couple of gays. I mean, who’s the girl?”

There’s a tense silence, because there’s not a person there who doesn’t know how offensive that is. Everyone watches for their response, holding their breath.

It’s Stiles who moves first.

Fuck behaving.

He lifts up his shirt and starts undoing his jeans, while saying “hey, Peter, c’mere”

He blatantly slips a hand down the front of his pants, and then can all see him fondling himself. A couple of parents shepherd their children nervously away, but Stiles isn’t a total asshole, so he makes sure that there’s nothing for them to see, but to an adult it’s perfectly clear what he’s doing.

“This is a dick, right?” he asks Peter, who’s walked over casually, and if you didn’t know him you might be fooled by his placid expression.

Peter cups him through the denim. “Definitely one of those, quite a nice one too. Big” he confirms.

Then Stiles pulls Peter round to face him, and starts undoing _his_ fly, asking “check in there for me will you?”

Peter obediently slides a hand down the front of his pants, rummaging around before withdrawing the hand and confirming “Also a cock”.

Stiles turns to Phil, and tells him “Wow, I’m so sorry to disappoint you, but neither of us is a girl. You seem awfully interested though; did you want to check for yourself?”

There’s a moment’s stunned silence, and then Phil chokes on his beer, and his mates all laugh uproariously, telling him “They got you good buddy! “

Phil blushes, and mumbles something that could be an apology.

It’s as good as they’re going to get, Stiles decides.

He lets his face break into an easy grin, and tells him “hey no problem, I know when you’ve had a couple of beers the brain to mouth filter can switch off”.

They all laugh at that, and Phil sheepishly admits it’s true.

Peter guides him away then, muttering “smooth, rabbit, very smooth.”

And then Peter slips away with the guy who told the offensive joke in the first place, and educates him on exactly why it’s not OK.

He actually uses the phrase “If that was your daughter” which he hates to do, but it has the desired effect, and the man casts an eye over at his six year old, and blanches, and when he comes back to the group he quietly apologizes.

 

* * *

 

 

Carol’s gets a hold of them, and she’s dragging them around and introducing them to everyone, as “our newest gay couple on the block.”

“I thought we were the only gay couple on the block?” Stiles comments to Peter.

Carol hears him and tells him “Oh, David and Andrew have been here for two years now. Of course, they’re properly gay, not like you two”.

Peter’s brow furrows at that, as if he’s struggling with a difficult problem.

‘Properly gay. Exactly what is that, Carla?”

Twitch.

“Well, Andrew’s an artist and David’s a hairdresser, and they’re always dressed fabulously, and they’re just so…flamboyant, you know”.

“Whereas you two, you just look, well, like _real_ men _,_ really. Honestly, Peter, you could pass for straight, if you wanted to.”

She runs her hand down his chest, fingers lingering over the outline of his piercing as she speaks.

Stiles isn’t sure whether she means it as a compliment or an insult, but either way, he’s done here.

“We look like real men’ he repeats slowly.

“Real men” Peter echoes.

“I’m sorry, Carla, I didn’t know there was a gay guideline we should be following, did you Peter?”

“No, sweetheart “replies Peter” but then as you know, I’m not properly gay, I’m only bisexual. I also like women.”

He casts an obviously appraising eye over Carol in her halter top and shorts, before amending “some women, anyway”.

Stiles sees her visibly deflate.

He sighs, and gives up on even trying to behave.

“Listen up _Carol,_ and listen good. I know you think Peter’s attractive, but he’s taken. We’re happily married. And you can flirt all you want, and tell him he looks like a real man, but he will never, ever be attracted to you. So _back off”._

He feels a hand on his shoulder, and turns to find Peter right there, and he pulls him in for a passionate kiss, because he needs the touch right now, lord knows.

The kiss goes on and on, until someone whistles and claps, and Stiles is surprised to see its Glen, who’s catcalling and whooping, saying “Hot damn, yeah boys!” to the utter amusement of his friends.

Stiles sheepishly pulls away from Peter.

Carol’s nowhere to be seen.

He clears his throat, not sure where to go to from here, when Glen comes over and proclaims “no brain to mouth filter, it’s a bitch, am I right?” loudly, while dragging Stiles into a headlock and laughing.

It’s the perfect ice breaker, and people laugh and assume Stiles must have had a few beers, hot sun and all that, and they wander away to eat and relax, leaving the three men standing there.

“Um, thanks” mumbles Stiles.

Glen shrugs. ”No problem” he says.

“Really, people round here don’t care if you’re gay or straight, apart from a few idiots like Phil. Fair warning though, if they ever figure out that you’re werewolves, Carol will blow a gasket.”

He takes in their stunned expression, and tells them “Can spot you a mile away. It’s in my blood – family business, you could say.”

At the look on their faces, he introduces himself properly. “I’m Glen Argent”.

“Ohhhh” Peter breathes out, understanding dawning across his face.

“Yep, I’m the one they don’t talk about” confirms Glen.

“The rebel” Peter says, eyes lighting up.

He extends his hand and says “I don’t believe we were properly introduced. Peter Stilinski-Hale”.

“Figured you were a Hale, looking like that” Glen grins.

“Now, why don’t I tell you which one of these folks will flip out the most when they figure out you’re Weres?”  and he goes to get them more beer.

Stiles hisses at Peter under his breath “Who the hell’s Glen Argent?”

“Tell you later, rabbit. It’s a great story, honestly. Now tell me, should we keep attempting to behave? Because I confess, it seems like such a lot of effort for so little reward”.

Stiles grins widely, and says “If we’re going to fail at suburbia, let’s do it in style” before pulling Peter in for another kiss.

 

 

 


	3. Dogged determination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> stiles wants a dog, but dogs and wolves don't mix.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I caved, and split this chapter in two. Today the dog, and the legend of Glen Argent some time in the next few days.

The attendant at the animal shelter is firm.

The animal has to _like_ their new owner before the shelter will rehome them. And the tiny Maltese terrier she’s holding doesn’t like Stiles at all - she’s terrified.

The look of disappointment on Stiles’ face is really quite devastating, and Peter wishes he could help, but really, this is just one of those things they may have to live with.

To be fair, it’s a hit and miss thing with dogs and wolves anyway, but so far every single dog they’ve looked at has cowered in fear and pissed in the corner, terrified of Stiles. It’s definitely him, too.

They’ve tested the theory – Peter goes in on his own, dogs are fine. Stiles goes in?  Puddles of pee and frightened dogs. They’ve chalked it up to one of those wolf-spark things.

This is the third shelter they’ve been to, and Peter has a sneaking suspicion they’ve been put on some sort of animal cruelty watch list. He could just explain to the staff that they’re wolves, but he knows that then some of them will refuse to let them adopt at all. He’s not sure what they think werewolves are going to do to a dog; he doesn’t like to think too much about it.

He can feel Stiles’ resignation seeping through their bond as he says “Let’s just go, Peter. Dogs hate me. It’s my smell or something”.

A thought strikes Peter then, but he keeps it to himself, and when they get home he goes into his office and makes a call to Scott.

Who calls around the area to see if there’s anything that will fit their needs, shamelessly using his fame to get results.

And the gods must be smiling on them, because the next day Peter gets a call from the shelter in a town two hours over, telling him they’ve got something that might fit his requirements if he’d like to come look.

He calls Stiles at the library and tells him to play hooky, and collects him at lunch time so they can get there before the shelter closes.

He doesn’t tell Stiles where they’re going, and it drives his mate crazy with curiosity, but he doesn’t spill the beans, even when Stiles offers to give him roadhead if he tells.

Two hours is a long, boring drive.

Stiles gives him roadhead anyway.

Peter knew he would.

When they pull up at the shelter he sees Stiles’ shoulders slump a little, and he tells him “I have a theory, rabbit. Humor me.”

They go inside, and the lady at the desk is expecting them, and tells them that Mr McCall rang and told them that they’d be an excellent fit for Baxter, and they’re thrilled to be able to help Alphavet.

Stiles looks dubiously at Peter, but the lady is leading them right down to the back of the shelter, and they look through the  glass door, and inside is the biggest St Bernard Peter’s ever seen.

He’s obviously had some sort of accident.

One eye is closed, there are pink shiny burn marks on his muzzle and face,and he seems to be dribbling. He stands about three and a half feet tall, and there’s something wrong with his tail.

Peter looks at the burn scars, and tenses just a little. If it wasn’t for their bond, Stiles might have missed it.

He places a hand in the small of Peter’s back and holds him close, just for a moment, before placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

Peter looks at him sadly, and Stiles knows he’s remembering the family he lost to the fire.

They stand hesitantly outside the door.

Peter goes in first, and Baxter ignores him. He gestures for Stiles to come in and he does, slowly.

Baxter’s reaction is immediate. He gets up, still ignoring Peter, and pushes his head directly into Stiles’ hip, nudging him. Stiles extends a hand and rubs behind his ears, and the dog responds with a weird sort of warbling noise, almost like he’s talking.

“Oh, he likes you!” the lady exclaims happily.

Stiles scritches again, saying “oh, poor doggo! What happened to you?”

The dog repeats his previous noise, and what should be a tail but is actually only about six inches of stump starts wagging furiously.

“Baxter has some….issues, which is why he’s been hard to place, but he’s the sweetest thing you’ll ever meet. He’s missing an eye. He has no sense of smell. He tends to drool a little. And someone’s tried to dock his tail, and made a mess of it, so really, he only has a stump.” 

Stiles looks horrified. ”What happened?”

“It’s quite sad really, an accident with stupid kids and fireworks.”

Stiles lowers himself into a sitting position on the ground. When he’s down there the dog’s taller than him. He also thinks he’s a lap dog, because he lays across Stiles’ crossed legs at once, pinning him in place. He licks Stiles’ face, the remains of his tail wagging even harder.

“Jesus Peter, he’s a horse” comments Stiles, but he’s running his hands through the dog’s fur as he says it, and if his grin gets any wider the top of his head may fall off.

“He weighs in at around 130 pounds and he’s strong” the assistant offers.

 “Oh, that’s no issue for us at all” Peter says, “I think we can handle him”

There is one more thing he wants to check though, so he asks the attendant if they can have a minute alone with the dog.

She leaves, closing the door.

“You try first, rabbit”

Stiles extracts himself from the pile, of dog, stands, and shifts.

Baxter watches him for a moment, lays his head on the floor and huffs disinterestedly.

Peter fixes his gaze on the dog, slowly lets the red seep into his eyes, and shifts to beta form, growling slightly.

The dog yawns.

Next they try a full shift, one at a time, just to be sure.

Baxter rolls onto his back, tongue hanging out, and farts.

Stiles snorts with laughter.

Baxter is about the same size as Stiles’ wolf, but he drools a hell of a lot more.

The attendant comes back in and asks them “So how did he respond to the shift?”

Stiles just looks at her.

“Scott told us you were wolves, I assumed that you wanted to check his reaction” she shrugs.

Huh. Fair enough.

“He was fine with it, actually” Peter tells her.

“Excellent. So are you going ahead then?”

“We are getting him right Peter? He needs someone to look after him, look at that face.”

“I wonder if the neighbors will approve.” Peter muses.

“They’ll hate him”. Stiles can’t stop grinning.

They share a look, and go to sign the adoption paperwork


	4. The Legend of Glen Argent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles keeps turning in his seat to look at his dog, and his eyes are suspiciously bright.   
> To fill in time on the drive back, Peter finally, finally, offers to tell Stiles the Legend of Glen Argent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, you guys really liked the dog chapter huh?  
> Here, have a completely made up member of the Argent clan. I hope you like it.

They load Baxter, a forty pound bag of dog food, a giant dog bed, and sixteen soft toys that Stiles bought him into the car, and head back to Beacon Hills.

Baxter noses his head forwards between the seats panting, long tongue hanging obscenely out.

Stiles looks at him with affection, and says “Hey, Ugly”

Baxter licks him in response.

“No”.

“What?” says Stiles.

“We are not calling the dog Ugly, Stiles. Don’t even think about it”.

At the sound of the name, Baxter’s ears prick up.

“Hey Baxter” Stiles tries.

Baxter regards him steadily.

“Hey, Ugly”.

He yips excitedly at the sound of the name.

Peter sighs.

 “I refuse to stand at the door at night calling Ugly.”

“OK” Stiles says easily, and Peter looks at him suspiciously.

‘Peter, why would I call a dog who’s been abused such an awful name? He’s responding because he’s heard it so often, that’s all. No, he needs a better name that Baxter, but Ugly isn’t it”.

“That’s remarkably mature of you, rabbit”.

“Sometime, just sometimes, I can be an adult, when it’s important” Stiles informs him.

“Besides, we’re calling him Odin” he states firmly.

The dog warbles in agreement, and Peter considers it.

“Yes” he decides. “Welcome to the pack, Odin”

Odin wuffs quietly in response, and wags his tail.

 

 

* * *

 

 On the drive home,   ~~Baxter~~ Odin snores in the back seat.

Stiles keeps turning in his seat to look at his dog, and his eyes are suspiciously bright.

To fill in time on the drive back, Peter finally, finally, offers to tell Stiles the Legend of Glen Argent.

“Glen’s Gerard’s illegitimate son” Peter begins, and Stiles listens eagerly.

“There was a one night stand apparently, details are understandably scarce, but he’s Chris’ half-brother”.

“There’s a rumor that his mother was a Were.”

‘Nooooo” breathes Stiles, already caught up in the tale.

“Complete rubbish of course, no self-respecting wolf would sleep with an Argent”.

Stiles snorts at that.

 “Apart from Scott, of course. And Derek. Because they’re both idiots with no sense of self-preservation” Peter amends.

“God, those two really were made for each other, weren’t they?” comments Stiles.

Peter continues on with the tale.

“Anyway, apparently, and this is all rumor and happenstance by the way, you’ll have to confirm it with Glen, his father paid the mother off and bought him to live with the Argents. Chris would only have been a toddler at the time, Glen was about eight or nine, I believe”.

“Gerard started to train him as a hunter as soon as he was old enough, but Glen, he wasn’t interested. But he was a smart kid, and he could already tell that Gerard would never accept that he might be wrong, so he pretended, and got Gerard to teach him all about Alphas and omegas and pack dynamics, learned as much as he could.  The old man was thrilled, and taught him all the tricks of the trade.”

“Boooring” intones Stiles.

“Hush, rabbit. I’m getting there” scolds Peter.

“So anyway, the old man teaches Glen all he knows about lone omegas and how to trap them. Then Glen tells him he’d really like to find out about all the Alphas and packs out there, know your enemy and all that. Well Gerard’s proud as punch of his boy, hunter through and through, he tells everyone. He gives him access to all his records, a complete list of all the Alphas and packs out there, who has what territory, all the affiliations, the works.”

“If he had a list of all the Alphas and all the packs, why didn’t he just use it to track them all down?” interrupts Stiles.

“If you don’t _want_ to hear the story my way, I can stop telling you” observes Peter.

“Fiiine, Wolfman, keep telling it your way, the boring way” Stiles rolls his eyes.

“So, as I was _saying”_ Peter continues, “Glen gets his hands on all the details of all the Alphas.”

“He’s about eighteen by now, and he’s also an expert hunter, and can trap omegas easily. And he has all the moral outrage of any eighteen year old with a cause, but he also has the smarts to do something about it. He’s been working on a plan for years”.

“What does he do?’

“I’m getting there, rabbit, I promise”.

Peter takes a deep breath.

“You have to understand, Glen never wanted to be a hunter. He hated it. But he had to bide his time, wait until he was old enough to start hunting on his own, wait until Gerard trusted him implicitly. The Weres hadn’t come out publicly yet, so hunting hadn’t been regulated like it was later on. So that poor kid suffered through ten years of listening to Argent bullshit, knowing right in the very core of his being that it was wrong. By the time he turned eighteen, he was just a simmering ball of righteous indignation”

“But what did he doooo? You’re killing me here, Peter”.

“I know” says Peter smugly. “I do love it when you beg”.

Stiles huffs. “Are you going to finish the story or not?”

“Well, I’m not sure now, you keep interrupting, so I might leave it for another day, rabbit”.

“Finish the story and I’ll make it worth your while when we get home” Stiles winks suggestively.

“Oh really, rabbit?  How will you do that, exactly?”

Stiles looks at him slyly.

“I’ll let you knot me later.”

Peter shivers at the thought.

“Deal” he responds promptly, his voice suddenly thick with want.

He reminds himself that it’s only twenty minutes until they’re home, and that stopping the car and fucking Stiles over the hood is not an option.

Stiles knows exactly what he’s thinking due to their bond and grins smugly, simply saying “Drive faster.”

 

* * *

 

 

They continue on, and Peter picks up the tale.

“When he turned eighteen, Glen convinced Gerard to let him run a hunt on his own. He rounded up the three omegas they were after, and just…disappeared.

So did the omegas, but shortly afterwards they emerged as new pack members in three different packs across the state. Gerard was furious, but they weren’t omegas any more, so there was nothing he could do without breaking the code.”

“Holy shit” says Stiles, eyes wide.

“It became a regular occurrence after that. Gerard would try and arrange a hunt, but Glen would swoop in first and sprit the omegas away, and using Gerard’s list, would contact various alphas to see if they’d take them in. They generally said yes, especially when he told them the omegas would be hunted by Argent otherwise. Gerard Argent didn’t run a successful hunt for over ten years, because Glen beat him to it every time. He was the laughingstock of the state”.

“Glen ran the werewolf Underground Railroad!” says Stiles delightedly.

“He ran the werewolf Underground Railroad” confirms Peter, grinning.

“I didn’t even know a werewolf underground existed” marvels Stiles.

Peter just looks at him.

“That’s the point of it, rabbit. It’s Under. Ground.”

“So, what did Gerard do?”

Peter’s expression tightens a little.

“He beat anyone who dared mention Glen to a pulp. It didn’t take long for word to get around, and it’s as though Glen never existed as far as the Argents are concerned.”

“Wow. A plus parenting, right there”.

“The underground ran successfully right up until the Weres came out publicly, and then the regulations governing hunting came into play, and it really wasn’t needed any more. And Glen became a legend and a hero in the Were community as the Rebel Argent who screwed his father over”.

“So Glen’s apparently been living in Beacon Hills all this time” muses Stiles. “I wonder if Chris knows?”

“I don’t know rabbit, as I say he was young at the time, the whole thing may have gone over his head. Ten year olds are notoriously unobservant”.

“Damn, you were right, that is a great story. We need to buy that man all kinds of gifts”.

“Actually, for all his work saving werewolf lives, Glen gets paid a generous gratuity every year from every pack in the state. It’s the least we could do.”

They can see the end of their street coming into view now, and Odin seems to sense that the journey’s near its end, because he starts snuffling and whining.

They pull up and let him out of the car after attaching his lead, and he sniffs around the front yard happily, carrying a soft toy in his mouth.

They take him inside and settle him in, Stiles constantly stroking and petting him, and Odin rubbing up against his legs happily.

Peter waits all of five minutes before saying “Odin needs some outside time. _Right now_ ”.

Stiles looks at him, surprised.  “Really? He just got here. You can’t wait a little till he’s settled?”

Peter looks at the pair of them and groans.

“Stiles, I don’t think you understand how close I am to losing control right now, but fine, I’ll wait. In bed. Alone. Just me and my knot, until you’re ready. Take your time, honestly.”

He strips off his shirt and jeans as he speaks, revealing his erection, flexing his ass, rolling his shoulders, and strides towards the bedroom.

Two minutes later he hears “Good dog Odin, you wait outside, I’ll be back later” and then he hears the back door click shut.

He grins, and strokes himself lazily as Stiles appears in the doorway, already naked.

“He’s got food and water and his bed and his toys, he’ll be fine” he says, eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Good, because you’re mine, now” growls Peter, and he grins the filthiest of all his grins, and drags Stiles onto the bed for the night of his life.

Odin sleeps happily in his bed outside in the warm summer air, and doesn’t even stir when the noises start.

 

* * *

 

 

It's early the next morning, when Carol comes over to inform them that their new dog was howling until all hours last night.

They nod vigorously and agree “Yes, the dog, definitely the dog” as Peter smirks and Stiles blushes wildly.

Peter’s sex hair’s genuine, this time.

 


	5. The Real Gays of Beacon Hills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Didn’t you know? According to neighborhood scuttlebutt, there’s a brooding and sinister older man who they think is some kind of drug baron, and his young husband, who's the victim of some arranged teenage marriage, and definitely a hostage. Apparently Carol walked in on your wedding night and saw the young man being defiled against his will, so much so that you put a dent in the drywall” Andrew offers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like this, I've played with it too much now, and I can't tell if it's any good.

 “Peter?”

“Hmmm?”

”Are we going to tell the neighbors we’re wolves, or are we trying to hide it?”

Peter turns a sex-sleepy face towards him, and asks “Why are we talking about this right now? You’re ruining my afterglow”.

‘Sorry, it was just a stray thought. It can wait”

Peter sighs, and heaves himself upright.

“It’s obviously worrying you rabbit, or you wouldn’t bring it up. What do you think we should do?”

“I just don’t get how they don’t realise. I mean, the Hale pack’s pretty well known, right?”

Peter looks at him archly “Of course. Because when you meet someone new, the first thing you do is play connect the dots with their last name, right? I don’t, and neither do most people”.

“Point” concedes Stiles.  “But I just want to know if we have, y’know, an official line”.

Peter shrugs. “I honestly don’t care. I’m not ashamed of what we are. Why don’t we just say nothing, and when they finally figure it out, act surprised that they didn’t already know?”

Stiles considers it. “That seems like it would work. I vote that be our official position”.

Peter grabs him and pins him down, saying “And now that you’ve woken me, I vote that my official position be on top of you” and he rocks his hips.

Stiles grins delightedly, pushing Peter off him and pointing, saying “Peter! That’s a terrible pick up line! I’m finally rubbing off on you, I'm so proud.”

Peter silences his crowing by kissing him thoroughly, and then cementing his official position with a lazy fucking.

This time when he dozes off afterwards, Stiles leaves him to sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

They’re finally having breakfast later that morning, still droopy eyed and sex rumpled, when there’s a knock at the door.

Stiles isn’t wearing a shirt, and Peter looks like sex on legs.

They open the door together, and are met by the sight of a young couple who can only be described as dapper.

The younger of them is holding a box of croissants, which he promptly drops in shock when he sees Peter, exclaiming “Holy shit, it’s you, it’s hot pole guy!”

His partner seems equally shocked, pointing at Stiles and saying “Oh, I saw you the night you danced to Hallelujah, that was pure magic, man”.

Peter and Stiles look at each other, and wait for the conversation to start making any kind of sense.

The two men gather themselves a little, and finally introduce themselves as Andrew and David, from six houses down.

 “Peter Stilinski-Hale, and this is my husband Stiles” Peter offers.

“Oh great, we can stop calling you hot pole guy when we go to Jungle now” David tells them, laughing. “We’ve been regulars for a while now.  Watching you guys ride the pole, well, let’s just say it’s led to some wild times at our house afterwards.”

‘Same” agrees Stiles.

Peter nudges him, saying “Behave, rabbit” and invites the couple inside.

It turns out they’ve been away for three weeks, so they missed the excitement over getting new neighbors, but as soon as they were back plenty of people had been keen to share the news that there was a mysterious couple at number 48 now.

“They actually said “mysterious couple?’ Stiles asks, eyebrows raised.

“Didn’t you know? According to neighborhood scuttlebutt, there’s a brooding and sinister older man who they think is some kind of drug baron, and his young  husband,who's the victim of some arranged teenage marriage, and definitely a hostage. Apparently Carol walked in on your wedding night and saw the young man being defiled against his will, so much so that you put a dent in the drywall” Andrew offers.

Stiles rolls his eyes, and goes to the fridge, pulling out four beers.

Peter arches a brow. “It’s 11 am Stiles”.

“I think I’m going to need beer for this, my drug baron husband. Why am I always a damned child bride? I don't look that young!” Stiles grizzles, and hands them around.

 As he's taking a drink, Andrew look around the room, and starts choking on his beer.

 “Oh my god, there actually IS a hole in the drywall” he points out, and yes OK, the dent is still there.

They all look at it before bursting out laughing.

“Well, yes, but that’s not the point. Any defiling was consensual, and Carol walked in on exactly nothing, because she didn’t have a key” complains Stiles.

“She called the Sherriff on us though” offers Peter “which was unfortunate, since Noah’s Stiles’ father”.

“Nothing like your dear old dad coming to your new house for a noise complaint while you’re still half naked and have a hand full of something sticky“ Stiles comments ruefully.

Andrew, who had only just stopped laughing, starts again, and sets all four of them off.

“God I love suburbia, nothing like letting the truth get in the way of a good story” he offers, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“Oh,by the way, you’re the proper gays!” says Peter cheerfully.

The two men look puzzled.

Stiles simply says “Carol”.

A look of understanding crosses their faces then.

“Which one of you is she trying to seduce? Let me guess, you” he says, pointing to Peter.

“Unfortunately, yes” sighs Peter. “I think she wants to cure me, since I’m not a proper gay.”

“Apparently _you_ have proper gay jobs and you always look fabulous, and you’re so flamboyant” Stiles tells them.

David’s laughing now. “Oh shit, that’s gold. I told Carol we were an artist and hairdresser years ago to wind her up. I can’t believe she still thinks it’s true. I come home every day in steel caps and covered in grease”

Stiles asks them “Not an artist and a hairdresser then?”

“I.T. consultant and mechanic” Andrew offers, looking slightly guilty.

“You two are quite devious, aren’t you?” Peter observes mildly.

“Honestly, we try not to be, but sometimes the temptation’s too great”.

“Care to be our partners in crime upsetting Carol? We need to be ‘more gay’. She said I could pass as a straight man if I wanted to, and that just won’t do”.

David comments “I’m not sure if you can get any gayer than being the gay owner of a gay pole dancing club who actually dances for other men. I mean what else do you need to do to qualify?”

And then Andrew demands to know exactly what they missed at the picnic, so Stiles gives them a play by play, from checking who’s the girl, to telling Carol off, to making out, to continuing to call her Carla ever since.

“You played with your junk at the picnic to make a point” says David admiringly. “I’m in love – marry me?”

“I’m flattered, but my drug baron husband can be sooo possessive” jokes Stiles, but he reaches across the table and strokes Peter’s knuckles affectionately at the same time.

They polish off a few more beers and make plans for the following weekend, and before they leave Peter gives the guys a handful of free entry passes to the club, which they accept delightedly.

After they leave Stiles spend the rest of the day calling Peter ‘Heisenberg’, until Peter tells him “I prefer Walter, thank you”.

 

* * *

 

The following weekend, Peter and Stiles hold a housewarming barbecue.

They invite David and Andrew, Noah and Jordan, the neighbors that they actually like, and the dancers and staff from Jungle. They tell everyone just to look for the house with the big rainbow flag.

And big it is. The flag’s three metres by three metres, and hangs proudly on the flagpole out the front.

They decorate the letterbox and fence with rainbow bunches of balloons, and hook up the speakers to outside so the whole area can hear what Stiles has dubbed their “Big Gay Soundtrack”.

It’s musicals and disco, mainly, with some Kylie and Judy Garland thrown in. It’s cheesy as all hell, and perfect to sing along to.

They congregate in the front yard, because it’s bigger, and when Carol looks out of her door on Saturday afternoon to see what the noise is, she’s greeted with the sight of a crowd of people drinking and carousing,  and singing along loudly with the Village People.

She looks again, to confirm what she thought she saw, and yes, that is definitely the Sheriff kissing a very fetching young man. She needs to investigate.

She ventures out, because how can she not, and walks over the road. Stiles sees her approaching, and walks to the end of the driveway before she can advance any further.

“Can I help you Carla?” (CAROL she screams internally, CAROL how hard is that?).

“I just came over to introduce myself to your friends” she smiles charmingly.

“I’m sorry Carla” says Peter as he approaches.  “You’re not invited this party.”

“It’s a housewarming. For friends “adds Stiles.

Carol takes in the guest list.  Glen Argent waves to her cheerfully, and goes back to chatting up one of the dancers from Jungle.

 David and Andrew wave as well. Half the damned street’s here.

“I don’t understand” she says hesitantly.

“The party’s because we wanted to have drinks with our _friends_ ” Stiles explains.

”It’s for people smart enough to realise that we are actually an ordinary couple, and not for people who spread rumors that we’re some drug baron and his unwilling teenage husband. Apparently you told people you walked in on me being assaulted against a wall. I don’t appreciate you insinuating to people that my husband’s a rapist, Carol.”

Stiles’ tone is as cold as Peter’s ever heard it, and his expression is hard.

Carol has the good grace to look ashamed at that.

Peter takes her aside, then.

“Carol” he tells her quietly, and his use of her actual name catches her attention more than anything.

“Stiles and I, we just want a quiet life. We want to live here with our dog, and have our friends over for drinks, and not have anyone start unsavory rumors about us. Is that too much to ask, really?”

She shakes her head dumbly.

Peter continues.

“Now, sometimes you’ll see and hear a few strange things. Sometimes people will come and go who you wouldn’t expect.

Sometimes I’ll come and go at odd hours. So will Stiles. More than that, you don’t need to know. OK?”

She nods, hypnotized by his tone.

“Then we’re good here. I can’t think of a single reason for you ever, ever, to come over to this house again, unless you want to upset me.

And Carol? You don’t want to upset me.”

And he flashes Alpha red eyes at her and walks away.

She stands there with her mouth open in shock, before pointing and crying out ”WEREWOLF!”

Peter turns back to her, and says “Pack Alpha, actually”. And he drops his fangs, and flicks out his claws.

Carol can’t cope. She just keeps pointing, saying “Isn’t anybody going to do something? He could be dangerous!”

People are staring at her now, shaking their heads.

Peter grins, a glittering, dangerous thing, and tells her “Oh, I’m very dangerous, if I need to be.”

“But you’re just…living here, like you have a right! Like you’re a person!” Carol shrieks, and Stiles can see she’s lost control completely.

Noah steps forwards then, he’s off duty, but he’s an expert at defusing situations like this.

“Hey Carol” he rumbles soothingly. “Just calm down, OK? Yes, Peter’s a werewolf. There are probably a lot of people you know who are wolves that you don’t know about. There are probably werewolves _here_ that you don’t know bout. And you know what? That’s fine”

“There are no other wolves here! I’d be able to tell if I met one!” she snaps at him.

Stiles steps forwards and puts his arm around Peter, and says “Got a problem with my _mate_ , Carol?” as he lets his eyes start to glow.

“OK, well apart from his husband, but surely there can’t be more?” She sounds suddenly unsure.

Glen steps forward then. “Actually…” he says, as he shifts partially. The other shifters from Jungle follow his lead and show their fangs, and Carol realises she has literally just walked into a den of wolves.

Stiles looks at Peter and whispers “You never said Glen was a Were?”

“I told you he was the rebel Argent, I thought you’d figure it out eventually. Keep up, rabbit” Peter shrugs.

“Is there anyone here who’s not a damned wolf?” Carol sobs out.

Jordan puts his hand up and steps forwards. “I’m not.” He offers.

She latches onto the fact, saying “Thank God, another human.”

It’s almost sad to see her crumble when he tells her “Actually, no. Hellhound”.

His eyes flash orange, just for a second.

Noah walks her back across to her house then, making reassuring noises, pointing out that lots of people here aren’t wolves, but that even if they were, it’s very wrong of her to judge, and that she might need to reconsider some of her views in this day and age.

He’s using his best Understanding Officer Voice, and it seems to be helping a little.

“Told you” says a voice close to Stiles, and he turns to see Glen Argent standing there, holding on to Steve, the dancer from the club.

“I said that she’d blow a gasket, didn’t I? Never thought I’d get to see it, though”.

“Honestly, what’s her problem though?’ Stiles asks. “I mean, it’s been nearly thirty years since wolves came out, you’d think she’d be used to it”.

Glen sighs.

“Honestly? I wish I could tell you some tragic family back story about a rogue Alpha biting her brother, or bite rejection killing her husband, but there’s nothing like that.

At the end of the day, some people are just assholes”.

 

* * *

 

 

Surprisingly, Carol’s meltdown doesn’t put much of a dent in the carefree mood of the afternoon.

Noah leaves her at home after setting her up on the internet with some links and instructions to educate herself about Werewolves instead of reading the tabloids, and wanders back across to join them.

“Stiles, I’d say that was cruel. Except she deserved it.”

Stiles sighs. “It was when I heard that she’d been telling people Peter was some sort of drug lord and I was his unwilling partner. Talk shit about me, I can deal. Talk shit about Peter though, that’s different. She did deserve it. The coming out as Weres was just a bonus extra, we honestly didn’t plan that.”

‘Most people don’t seem to care, son” Noah observes, and it’s true.

Everyone else has carried on drinking and singing, and a rousing rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody can be heard.

Peter’s started cooking, and the smell of grilled meat is drifting across the yard.

Noah raises his beer and tells Stiles “Welcome to suburbia, son. Most people are pretty OK”.

Stiles looks at the odd mix in his yard, and grins. “Yeah, they mostly are” he agrees.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

* * *

 

 

It’s a month later when Carol’s house goes up for sale. Peter quietly buys it – it’s a nice property, and he’s been talking to Ami at work, and he has a feeling his pack might be growing soon.

It never hurts to be prepared.

 

 

 


	6. Kiss with a Fist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Peter and Stiles fight, it's all out war, no holds barred.  
> When they make up, it's still no holds barred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told a certain someone who has the flu that I'd write something for him to make him feel better. They asked for fluff and possibly porn. I'm not sure of this is either of those, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Get well soon, Golden Haired One.

Of course, it’s not always smooth sailing.

Peter and Stiles do, on occasion, fight like cat and dog.

And when they do, it’s no holds barred, punching and biting and screaming and calling each other names that they would never, ever use unless they were absolutely furious.

It only happens once or twice a year, and it’s usually Peter’s fault.

Like this time.

“What do you _mean_ , you bought me a housewarming present?’ Stiles asks him curiously “I mean, you already bought the damned house. You look guilty Peter, what did you do?”

“What can I say? I’m sentimental, and it holds such fond memories for us. I hope you like it”.

He hands him the envelope that contains the deeds for the Maze, now owned by Little Rabbit Enterprises.

Stiles opens it, and turns the paper over in his hands, sighing.

“Of course you bought the Maze. What’s next, Park Avenue ? You already have the hotel, after all.”

Peter looks at him, brow furrowed.

“Real estate’s what I do, rabbit. Is that a problem for you?”

“It is when you keep signing it over to me. You do realise I make a decent wage of my own, right? This just feels like you don’t think I can take care of myself.”

‘That’s not my intention, and if you were listening to your bond you’d know that, instead of getting all precious about it” Peter huffs.

“I saw the Maze was for sale, and I thought it would make you happy to be able to go back again, so I bought it. Excuse me for not wanting to spoil the surprise – I didn’t realize you would be such a _brat_ about it”.

Stiles folds him arms, always a bad sign.

“So, even though we’re married, and mated, you don’t think my opinion is worth anything when it comes to what is, after all, _my_ business? I mean, you’re the one who put _my_ name on the papers, so I assumed that meant you thought I was smart enough make some decisions, but apparently not. _Apparently_ it was just to ensure I was well looked after in case you died – you don’t really think I’m capable of much.  I’m just a pretty face for you to fuck”.

His eyes blaze with barely contained fury.

“Oh of course! How terrible of me! How _dare_ I do my job without asking you first? It’s not like I made a fortune on my own before I met you, after all’ Peter snaps back fiercely.

Stiles stares, open-mouthed.

Peter adds “Besides, you’re not that pretty”.

And just like that, it’s on.

 “Fuck you, Wolfman, and fuck your fucking property empire too!

I’m just asking for some damned respect! Or would that damage your massive fucking ego too much?” Stiles screams out.

Peter flips him off, saying “You’re nothing but an ungrateful fucking princess.

Boo fucking hoo, my husband buys me property and doesn’t ask me first!  Somebody call for the Waaaaaambulance!”

 

Stiles throws a vase at him, shouting “Princess? That’s rich, coming from the vainest man alive!”

“Careful lifting that, you might break a fucking nail, Fabio!” he snipes, as Peter hefts the coffee table over his head.

Peter lifts the table and throws it at Stiles anyway. It hits the wall next to him.

“You fucker, I liked that table” grunts Stiles as he grabs Peter and throws _him_ into the wall.

It devolves into all out wrestling after that, and through it all, they continue to scream insults at each other.

 “Goddam smartass baby wolf”

“Fucking douche canoe”

“Juvenile, pouting little asshole!”

“Donald Trump wannabe!”

At that last one,  Peter pins Stiles down on the floor, teeth at his throat, red eyed and growling as his wolf fights for dominance.

Stiles can’t help it. He tilts his head back, his own wolf submitting.

Peter nips him, just once _, hard_.

Stiles swears.

And then he suddenly Peter lets out a huge groan, and says “Fuck, I’m stupid”.

Stiles is still panting from exertion, and still angry, even though his wolf has submitted.

“No news there” he snaps out.

“No, we’re both idiots. Full moon tomorrow night” Peter sighs out.

‘Well, fuck” mutters Stiles, and punches him hard.

‘Why the hell weren’t you keeping track then, if you’re so fucking clever?” he snarls, because he’s sure as hell not going to admit that he’d lost track of the date as well.

Peter looks him in the eye and growls, daring him to do it again.

Stiles deflates.

“I might be a little on edge” he admits.

“Possibly I’m a little tense as well” Peter confesses.

Peter sighs and lets him up, and they survey the damage, both of them looking at the ground like naughty children as the adrenaline wears off and they realize that they've wrecked the place in what amounts to a temper tantrum. 

“Damn. I liked that dinner set” Peter comments.

Stiles looks at him hesitantly, and picks up the deed from where it’s laying in the wreckage.

“Peter?” he says softly.

Peter looks at him, waiting.

“Please stop buying me damned buildings? I mean, if you want to do the property thing, go for it, but don’t put my name on it and call it a gift, OK? It’s too much. Just take me out to dinner. I mean, the last thing I bought you was a watch”.

Peter’s shoulders slump a little. “But rabbit, pack takes care- ” Stiles cuts him off then.

“I’m not pack, Peter. I’m your mate. It’s different, ok? I need you to provide other things for me, not businesses.”

“Have I told it how much I hate it when you’re right, rabbit?” Peter grumbles.

“You should be used to it by now“ Stiles observes, and goes to get the broom and starts cleaning up the breakages.

 

* * *

 

 

They’re quiet as they clean up, and neither of them wants to speak first, because they both feel like damned fools.

Surprisingly, Peter caves first.

“So, rabbit, now that we’ve established that I’m a self-important fool who doesn’t respect your boundaries, is there any chance you’re going to forgive me any time soon?”

Stiles considers it.

“If I admit I might have overreacted, can we pretend this never happened, and can you give me the deeds next week when we’re calmer and I’ll act surprised?” he suggests.

“That sounds like an excellent idea. We are a pair of idiots though, How have we both managed to ignore the full moon this month?’ Peter muses.

Stiles ticks off on his fingers “Moving. Carol. Odin. Glen. Buying the hotel. We’ve been busy, Wolfman”.

The mess is cleared now, and they stand next to each other quietly.

Stiles nudges Peter.

“Come to bed? We need to burn off some energy, apparently”.

“Does that mean I’m forgiven rabbit?” Peter asks, smiling.

“Yes, Peter, I will generously forgive you for buying me the place that was my favorite hangout as a child and a teenager in an act of kindness because you thought I’d like it” he replies .

Peter figures that means he’s in the clear, and he leans on in for a kiss.

Stiles kisses him back – he’s always desperate for physical touch after they argue, so his hands wrap around Peter’s back and he drags him in close.

“Bed “murmurs Peter, and he lifts Stiles and carries him to their bedroom, nuzzling him all the way.

Once they get into the bedroom, they strip each other eagerly, all hands and mouths.

Their anger has melted away, and been replaced with a burning need to reconnect.

Their make up sex always has been phenomenal.

Peter backs Stiles up to the bed and pushes him down onto his back, tracing his hands down his chest and over his abs.He kisses him deeply and climbs on top of him, bracketing him under his body.

Stiles returns the kiss, and drags his hands down Peter’s back to grip at his ass. He moans hungrily.

Suddenly Stiles pushes back against him. Peter pauses and sits back on his heels, looking at him.

Stiles leans over and starts some music playing, saying “need something with a good beat, want you to go _hard_ tonight”.

Peter casts an eye over the playlist title.

“Really, rabbit?’

Stiles shrugs, and drags Peter back in against his body.

Peter has no idea what the hell he’s listening to, but it all has a strong, fast beat, and Stiles is obviously enjoying it, as his hips rock in time to the music.

They press against each other desperately, bodies moving in perfect harmony.

Peter finally pauses long enough to slide down Stiles’ body and start licking and sucking at his length. He takes him in his mouth, all the way down at once, and sucks relentlessly. Stiles arches off the bed, sensitive beyond belief, and Peter grins. He moves his head in time to the music, bobbing up and down at a fast pace, swirling his tongue and flicking it across the head.

Stiles starts to pound his heels into the mattress, swearing out a heartfelt “Fuckity fuck  fuck!”

Peter pulls off, and wraps his hand around the slick shaft. He starts pumping, and really, he concedes, this working with music has something going for it, because his hand is moving much faster than usual, and it’s driving Stiles completely wild.

Stiles grabs his wrist suddenly, stilling him.

“Not gonna last if you keep that up” he pants out.

Peter lubes his hand and slides it round to Stile’s ass, working two fingers in swiftly, to moans of pleasure.

“I’m ready Peter. Want you in me” he pleads.

Peter coats himself generously in lube, and tells him “Gladly, rabbit”.

He presses in, and Stiles groans.

“Go fast” he grits out.

And Peter does.

His hips snap forwards in time to the music, in, out, in, out, thump, thump, bass and drums, thrust, thrust , thrust.

He’s hitting Stiles’ prostate with each stroke, and Stiles is grunting every time.

It’s a beautiful noise, a perfect counterpoint to Florence as she sings.

 

_You hit me once, I hit you back_

_You gave a kick, I gave a slap_

Thrust  thrust,

 grunt  grunt.

  
_You smashed a plate over my head, then I set fire to our bed_

In, out, in out.

Unh, unh, unh, unh.

Peter doesn’t hear any more of the song after that, because Stiles is coming and he’s squeezing tight around him, and fuck that’s tight, and he loses himself in the sensation, and pumps his hips forwards in one last violent motion before he comes himself, panting.

Stiles huffs breathlessly.

“Holy shit” he sighs.

“Mmmmm” Peter agrees.

“Hard enough?” he inquires, then.

Stiles rolls them both over so he’s on top of Peter and asks him, “Do you remember when we very first started going out, and you said you liked to take charge, and wanted fuck me till I screamed, and I was all for it?”

Peter arches an elegant brow in response, as if to say “ _And?_ ”

“I just wanted to tell you….nothing’s changed. Now fuck me again, until I can’t walk”.

Luckily, there are a hell of a lot of song’s on Stiles’ _Fuck Me Stupid_  playlist, and even then, it plays through twice before they’re finally sated.

Peter lies back on the bed, absolutely spent.

Stiles is groaning next to him, but he’s wearing an expression of pure bliss.

“Can’t feel my legs“ he moans.

“Can’t feel my dick” Peter responds.

 

* * *

 

 

A week later at breakfast, Peter gives Stiles an envelope.

“I bought a business for us, rabbit. It’s not a great investment, but it means a lot to me because it’s somewhere you love. It’s up to you what we do with it. But at least we can go back there now”.

Stiles opens the deeds to the Maze, and tells Peter sincerely “I love it. Thank you”.

Then he gets a gleam in his eye.

“Does this mean we can go there at night, and you can chase me?”

Peter growls deep in his chest at the thought.

 


	7. What the neighbors learn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Living near Peter and Stiles is a learning curve, that's for sure.

As expected, a couple of the other homeowners aren’t exactly comfortable with their new neighbors.

For some of them, it’s the noises at night.

For some of them, it’s the continued presence of the giant rainbow flag that Stiles insisted they leave up.

For some of them, it’s just the knowledge that there are actual werewolves living next door.

A few houses besides Carol’s get new owners.

By and large though, the rest of the block accepts them and their quirks, learning as they go.

 

* * *

 

 

They learn never to come over before 10am.

Peter’s not a morning person.

If Stiles is at work he’s probably still napping, and if Stiles is home they probably aren’t answering the door and it’s _definitely_ best not to disturb them.

Either way, the door opening and a scowling, cranky, half naked Peter poking his head out to snarl “What the _fuck_ is it?” isn’t an experience anybody wants to have twice.

To be fair though, he did apologize that time it was the Girl Scouts, and he did buy all their cookies to make up for it.

 

* * *

 

 

They learn that Stiles and Peter swim naked.

They learn after the new woman next door makes the mistake of popping her head over the fence because she hears laughter and splashing and music, and thinks she might snag an invite to a pool party.

It’s not a pool party.

It’s Peter and Stiles, gloriously naked. They’ve been taking turns throwing each other into the water, and now Stiles has Peter backed against the wall, holding him by the hips and sucking him off.

She squawks, and Peter opens his eyes long enough to spot her.

“Can I help you?” he enquires politely, acting for all the world as though he’s at a cocktail party, and not backed up naked against a wall with his hands fisted tightly in Stiles’ hair.

Stiles tenses slightly and starts to pull off, but Peter holds him in place.

“Oh my god, that’s sickening!’ she exclaims.

“Yet you’re still watching“ Peter points out.

She blushes, and retreats inside.

Stiles pulls off Peter’s completely soft dick then, laughing.

“Killed it for you, huh?”

“Absolutely, but I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of knowing that” Peter replies.

She comes over the next morning, having spent a sleepless night, and stiffly informs them that they’ll be paying for her to get counselling, because she’s traumatized now and can’t get the images out of her head.

“Good luck with that” Stiles informs her cheerfully. “Did I mention my dad’s the Sheriff, and he takes a very dim view of peeping toms?”

She pales, and leaves quickly.

Three days later they come home to find a contractor on her side of the fence erecting a three meter privacy screen.

It’s the same guy who does all their drywall, funnily enough.

“Oh hey, Dave , how’s it going?’ Stiles calls as he waves to the guy. Dave waves back and asks “Do I want to know?”

Stiles shrugs. “Fence is there for a reason, man, just saying. She should have stayed on her side of it”.

Dave laughs and tells him that she’s not getting a discount now. As he leaves he says to Stiles “See you in three weeks?

‘Probably’ Stiles grins.

 

* * *

 

 

At first the neighbors think they’re doing major remodeling ( all the neighbors except David and Andrew, that is).

It seems like every third week or so Dave the drywall guy’s there, although on one occasion it’s the granite guy, carrying in new bench tops. 

The old laminate ones he removes are cracked very oddly, almost like someone’s gripped them too hard and ripped chunks out of the edges.

But as the weeks and months roll by, there’s no sign of an extension, no extra room appearing, just the drywall guy, regular as clockwork, carrying in new sheets, carrying out broken ones.

When someone asks Stiles, he tells them “It’s Peter’s voice. It’s so deep that the bass in it causes the plaster to crumble. it's a serious problem for us” with a completely straight face.

Actually, Peter’s voice causes Stiles to go weak at the knees, is what it is, and Peter knows he loves wall sex more than anything else, so he’s always helpless to resist when Peter leans in and purrs “Ride me against the wall, rabbit?”

Sometimes, Peter’s the one being held up and fucked, and he loves it just as much as Stiles does.

It’s costing them a fortune, and Peter absolutely doesn’t care.

Stiles tells Peter he's pretty sure they could learn to do it themselves, but Peter just looks at him quizzically at the suggestion and says "But we have people for that, rabbit. Making the dents is the fun part, let's stick to that."

  
And so they do, for the next hour.

Drywall Dave gets a new truck the following month.

 

* * *

 

 

The neighbors learn not to worry too much when they hear what sounds like world war three going on.

The first time, someone had hesitantly dialed the police, concerned that there was a domestic going on, that the rumors about Peter were true, and that he was hurting Stiles.

The man had given the address to the officer, and been told “One moment please,” before being directly connected to the Sheriff himself.

“Stilinski” he’d answered, and upon hearing their concerns, had sighed.

“Hang on, let me check the calendar” he’d told them, and returned a moment later.

“Yup, full moon. They’re probably just a little high spirited. I’ll tell them to keep it down” he informs the caller.

“Aren’t you worried that it’s an abusive situation?’ the man asked, surprised.

“Sir, I think you need to understand two things. Firstly, they’re werewolves. They’re physical by nature. They get a little crazy with the moon, but neither of them is abusing the other. It’s….blowing off steam, I guess, a little roughhousing.’

“And secondly, I can’t believe I’m saying this, and if you ever tell a living soul I told you I’ll deny it, but my son likes it rough.Really rough” The sheriff had told him.

“Your son likes it rough” the man repeated blankly, wondering what the hell that had to do with anything.

“My son. That’s him and his husband you’re calling about” clarified the Sheriff, and something in his tone had alerted the caller to the fact that this was not a road he needed to go down any further.

And sure enough, when he saw Peter and Stiles the next day, there wasn’t a mark on either of them, and they seemed in remarkably good spirits.

He wisely didn’t tell them about the call he’d made.

 

* * *

 

They learn that you never say a bad word about the dog, even in jest.

Especially to Stiles.

Definitely not close to the full moon, unless you want the sharp edge of his tongue.

Actually, just not anytime.

Glen learns the hard way. He makes some passing comment about Odin looking like he’s been dragged through a hedge backwards.

Stiles stands without a word and leaves the room, taking the dog with him.

Peter sighs. ‘You’d better go apologize, or you won’t hear the end of it. He’s very sensitive about Odin’s scars.”

Glen’s frankly surprised. “Really? Stiles isn’t sensitive about _anything_ ”.

“Oh, you have no idea” Peter tells him. “He dotes on that dog. Odin’s completely devoted to him, and Stiles is just as besotted with Odin. You know those people who have really ugly children, but insist on entering them in baby competitions? He’s like that.”

“Odin’s his baby?” Glen muses.

“Odin’s his baby” Peter confirms, smiling.

Glen immediately leaves the room and seeks Stiles out, apologizing sincerely for his thoughtless comment, and cuddling and smooching the St Bernard. Stiles is all smiles as he watches Glen rubbing under the big dog’s chin.

Odin’s his baby.

 

* * *

 

 

The neighbors know that sometimes, if you’re lucky, Alphavet will turn up with his body guard.

And they know that if he does, you surely don’t take a photo of him and Stiles hugging in the front yard and post it to Instagram with the hashtag #Alphavet.

Because as one poor soul discovers, within five minutes there will be a knock at the door, and Peter will be there with a large, brooding, gorgeous man who has his arms folded and looks like he could kill you with the power of his eyebrows alone.

And Peter will introduce the man as Scott McCall’s body guard, and he’ll point out that posting photos without permission upsets the bodyguard.

And the man’s mouth will pull down into an even deeper scowl.

And suddenly you’ll find yourself offering to delete the pic, and Peter will be all smiles, and you’ll end up going over for drinks with Scott, and he’ll turn out to be a really nice, if intensely private guy.

And you’ll get to watch as Stiles trolls the shit out of him, and Peter joins in, and you’ll notice that the bodyguard does actually have a gorgeous smile.

You’ll get to see it every time he looks at Scott.

And you won’t take a single photo.

 

* * *

 

 

The neighbors learn that if Peter decides he likes you, he’ll mother hen you to within an inch of your life, and there’s no refusing him.

Peter decides he likes Mandy James from three doors down.

He likes the way she randomly bakes muffins and sends her boys down to deliver them, because she’s a stress baker and someone has to eat it all, and her boys like Stiles and Peter and their dog.

He likes the way her two boys fawn over Odin every time they see him, and never call him ugly, instead calling him “Poor doggo” as they scratch his belly for long stretches.

Odin revels in the attention, and anything that makes the dog happy makes Stiles happy.

And if Stiles is happy, Peter’s happy.

He admires her for holding for down two jobs, never complaining, while her husband recovers from a car accident.

He makes discreet inquiries, and finds out that their insurance didn’t cover all the medical expenses, and that expected recovery time is six months. He also finds out the car was a write off.

The medical bills suddenly stop coming, and when Mandy calls the hospital to find out why, they’re very sorry, but all they can tell her is that her husband’s costs now and in the future are covered.

She goes to the bank to make her home loan repayment, and they’re similarly apologetic when they can’t tell her who’s already made her payments for the next twelve months– it’s all cash.

She eyes Peter speculatively when she delivers the next lot of muffins personally, but of course he has the ultimate poker face, and she goes home unable to confirm her suspicions.

She finds out it’s him though, when the new car turns up, because of course there’s a paper trail.

Stiles answers the door and sees her there, and she’s a mess, clutching a set of car keys and crying.

He sighs and brings her inside, and once again explains Peter’s compulsive need to fix things by throwing money at them. She starts to protest, and Stiles advises her to accept gratefully.

What he actually says is “He has more money than God, Mandy, and Peter Hale does what the hell he wants. He’s the worst combination of filthy rich and stubborn. Resistance is futile. Trust me, I know.”

 

But when Peter comes home that afternoon, Stiles meets him at the door and kisses him hard.

“Peter, you ridiculous man. I love you more than you’ll ever know”.

‘That’s lovely rabbit, but what am I missing?” he asks, amused.

“Mandy James came to see me today” Stiles explains, and kisses him again.

“So you don’t mind that I helped a little?” Peter asks.

“Why on earth would I mind?. That family deserves it, God knows. But what made you do it?”

Peter hesitates.

“Their shoes” he finally confesses.

“Last time the boys came down, I saw that one of them had duct tape holding the sole on”.

Stiles calls Peter a hopeless case, and drags him upstairs to bed.

 

Mandy makes Peter fresh baked goods once a week, like clockwork, until he pleads with her to stop, telling her it's too much.

She refuses point blank, telling him ‘You can have a taste of your own medicine, Peter. I’m going to do this nice thing for you, and you can’t stop me”.

Peter's expression is priceless.

Stiles just laughs when the basket turns up every week.

 

* * *

 

 

The neighbors know that for Halloween, the werewolf house is the best house.

Stiles is absolutely out of control, decorating every available surface, hanging skeletons in the front yard, buying enough candy to feed a small village, making bowls of slime, stringing up orange lights, and generally having a ball.

He dresses Odin in a Viking cape and eye patch, which the dog tolerates good naturedly, because he actually is completely devoted to Stiles, and will do anything for him, including sitting in the front yard in a ridiculous costume.

Stiles dresses as the Winter Soldier.

Peter though, doesn’t dress up at all.

He sits quietly in a chair in a dark corner of the porch, and as the children approach the front door, he lets his eyes glow red and growls deeply, and hangs the candy bars off his claws, swinging them there temptingly.

There’s always a moment where he’s not sure if they’re going to be game, but then one brave soul will dart forwards  and snatch a Snickers or a Mars bar from the end of his claw, giggling.

And Peter will smile toothily at them and offer them a second one for being brave, and then he’ll show them all how his claws slide smoothly in and out, and he’ll drop his fangs and retract them, letting them all watch as they ooh and aah.

Sometimes if they ask nicely he’ll let them _touch_ the claws.

And then he’ll give them all way too much sugar and send them on their way.

He pretends to hate it, of course, but nobody’s fooled.

For Mandy’s children, when they ask breathlessly “Can we see your wolf, Peter?” expecting his beta shift, he goes one better. He takes them inside and after making them close their eyes so they don’t see too much, he shifts completely, and lets them pet his fur.  

The two small boys are awestruck.

Stiles herds them outside while Peter shifts back and dresses, and when he comes outside, Stiles is engaged in a serious conversation with them about why it’s probably not a good idea to tell all their friends they saw "Peter’s furry bits."

“Maybe just tell them you saw his wolf, that’s a better way to say it” he advises sagely.

Peter snorts.

And after all the children have been sent on their way loaded down with candy, they retreat upstairs.

Stiles is giddy and full of sugar.

Peter is full of something else.

He uses a single claw to slice through the leather of the Winter Soldier’s uniform, one item at a time, like he’s been dying to do all night.

The sight of his mate in the costume has been driving him wild, and he shows his appreciation vigorously and repeatedly.

 

When he finally wakes the next day, Stiles orders multiples of the costume.


	8. Borrowing Baby Bill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was inevitable that Big Fence Lady would rub Stiles up the wrong way, really.  
> Just a matter of time.  
> And things had been going so well, as far as the neighbors went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a tiny snippet.  
> Remember how Stiles borrowed Baby Bill to mess with the neighbors?

It was inevitable that Big Fence Lady would rub Stiles up the wrong way, really.

It was just a matter of time.

And things had been going so well, as far as the neighbors went.

Odin had been a great help.

Who could resist the mournful face, the soulful eyes, and enthusiastic wag of the six inch stump of a tail? The general consensus was that anyone who would give a second chance to such a badly injured dog must be all right, really.

Stiles is out in the front yard, rolling a ball lazily back for him to fetch, just enjoying the sunshine, when Big Fence Lady happens past.

She gives him a tight smile, and he waves lazily. Odin comes bounding up with his drool covered ball, and Stiles tells him “You really made a mess of that, huh?”

Fence lady comments “If you think that's a mess, consider yourself lucky you’ll never have to deal with a child, at least.”

Stiles whips around and says “I beg your pardon?”

She stands there, arms folded and says “Well, it’s not like anyone would ever let a couple like you two adopt, is it?”

Stiles narrows his eyes.

“Actually, we’re test driving a baby later today.”

She stares, and then snaps “Don’t be ridiculous, you can’t test drive a baby.”

Stiles is in full Gives No Fucks mode, merrily making shit up as he goes along.

It's when he normally does his best work.

“Oh, there’s an agency that specializes in children for gay werewolves where the couple has an age gap. Because Peter’s older, he has low tolerance for noise and mess, so we’re going to test drive one and see how they do.”

‘I’ll believe it when I see it” she harrumphs.

Stiles ignores her and goes back to playing with his fur baby.

And as soon as she’s out of sight, he calls Ami and says “I need to borrow Bill this afternoon. It’s to piss off the lady next door.”

She drops him off an hour later, and Stiles spends the rest of the day ostentatiously parading him around the neighborhood, taking him to the park, and talking loudly with Peter about how he’s not sure, they might need to try him out a few more times.

He keeps it up for two months, sitting in the front yard with Bill on his lap, until he gets a call from Noah, asking “Stiles, why have I had a very distraught woman come into my office and tell me that she thinks you and Peter are part of a human trafficking ring that specializes in babies for gay werewolves?”

“Sorry Pops, I don’t know how she got that idea” Stiles lies smoothly.

“We’ve just been babysitting Baby Bill, maybe she misunderstood”.

Noah snorts.

“Whatever you’re doing, stop it now.And I’ll let her know that you aren’t a pair of notorious baby snatchers.” Noah sighs.

 

Peter won’t admit it to anyone, but he’s slightly saddened when Stiles tells him he’s promised his Dad not to borrow the baby for at least a month, just until their neighbor stops threatening to call Interpol.

 


End file.
